描述
A beautiful story that I never wrote
Yesterday I collected the thoughts that flew in my head like butterflies. I wanted to write a story as beautiful as the night sky. But in the end, I could only draw a little Shiva with crooked little fingers.
Time dragged on slowly, but I realized that I had only a few seconds to remember, and then transmit the entire moment. I was drowning in a sketch, Shiva with crooked little fingers grew up in his black and white childhood.
At some point, I and Shiva, we both realized that we were resting our noses against a wall as black as night. I was asleep. Shiva remained in place under the pressed screen of the folded laptop, he acquired the first paints, a friend, toys and a protective shell in which one could see the spider.
It was like putting on prescription glasses and seeing Shiva in all his glory. His body was like a very bright ocean, and a beautiful night sky could be seen in his hair and eyes. He held in his hand a skull in which someone was hiding. Shiva twisted the fibred octahedron in his fingers.
Shiva, with a calm and thoughtful smile, endured the creation of a skeleton from sharp needles piercing the body. As if he knew pain all too well. At some point, I was distracted by a message from a group of tweeters, and then when I looked at Shiva, he was looking at me.
Yesterday I drank dry red wine, and there was also champagne, and there was a lot of everything, both wine and champagne. Then, later, when it was already night, this is exactly the time when I usually work on Shiva. Instead, I sat on the balcony, on a recliner, and looked up at the night sky, as beautiful as a story I never wrote.